Thorns
by Dooka1999
Summary: Little Clara has only a few friends in her life, and the best one just left. Ten years later, the aspiring ballerina hears rumors of a ghost, but is it her Angel? With new feelings on the rise and new people and secrets, Clara learns that every rose has its Thorns. Disclaimer - I do not own Phantom of the Opera, no matter how much I wish I did.
1. Chapter 1

Skipping into my best friend's house, my peach ballet shoes soft thuds on the cold, slick stone floor, I carefully stepped over misplaced clothes and scattered music score sheets that littered the floor, the yellow tinged parchment crackling when I step on one trying to maneuver though the mess.

Glancing about, my brown eyes shining dully in the low light of the few lit candles, almost puddles of scarlet wax now, I do not see the fourteen year old troublemaker anywhere, no signs of him in the entire cave. But what really struck me as odd was the lack of music, no singing or piano tunes filled the musty air, no shrill masterpieces being sung on the violin.

"Erik?" I called nervously, taking a large step away from the underground lake, afraid he would jump out of a shadowy corner like he always does, trying to scare me and I would fall in and he would have to rescue me… again. "Erik, are you here?"

I called out again, only to be met with an echo of my own quiet voice , no answer. Quickly I walked back into his bedroom, my hair floating out around my shoulders, straight as corn silk, a simple bed and wardrobe made of fine, furnished mahogany wood were the only pieces of furniture, and looking around I saw a thick paper envelope lying on the pillow, a skull made out of red wax to hold it closed.

Sighing, I picked it up and flipped it over to be met with my name written in red ink on the backside, Clara. With a smile, I opened it up and two things fell out, the letter, written in the same red ink, and a black ribbon of silk, cool and smooth to the touch. Tying my white blonde tresses up out of my face with the scrap of silk, I began to read the letter, eager to see when he would return, for he always left the letters here with the time of when he would return form wherever he disappears of to.

But, as my eyes traveled down the hastily written article, my smile faded and my vision blurred slightly, turning fuzzy around the edges. I felt the treat of tears ready to spill out of my wide eyes, and I read the letter over and over in my mind until it was seared in my memory and could recite it line for line.

_Dear Clara,_

_Please forgive me, for I have finally made the decision to leave the Opera House. Do not fear, for someday I will return, as I know you and Madame Giry will be missing me if I am gone too long. The reason for my sudden departure is that, I care for you Clara, like a little sister and I want to repay you for the friendship you gifted me for the last year we have been together._

_You are the only one who has seen what lies behind the mask, and not drawn back in fear, and for that I am eternally in your debt. Please await my return, as I will wait for the day when I am to see your yummy chocolate eyes again. I will miss you Angel._

_Love,_

_Angel_

Letting the tears flow freely down my face, I collapsed on his bed, it smelled of candlewax and ink, his own smell, and sob into my arms, my whole body shaking.

"Erik… my Erik…" I stammered through my tears, waiting for his comforting hands which I knew I would not find.

Composing my flushed and tearstained face, I grabbed the letter and fixed my hair, still tied in the ribbon, and ran out of the cavern and up the nearest staircase, almost tripping over my ribbons from my shoes, tears leaking out again, wanting to find Madame Giry and tell her what happened.

I had lost the only friend I had ever had in my short ten years of living; he was the only light I had in a somber past.

Yes, he was seven years older than me, and yes he was a boy, but he understood me better than anybody I have ever known. Yes, I only met him a year ago when I joined the Corpse de Ballet when I was six, a little trainee, and he saved my life, a story held only by the two of us. And yes, he had a less than fetching face, but I don't care, I love him like a brother, and he loves me like a sister.

After that day, I was fresh out of tears, never crying for him again. I never thought I would see him again, but somewhere deep down in the catacombs of my heart I dreamed he would return, just as he promised. I wore that ribbon every day, the black one that was in the envelope; I tied up my hair at every rehearsal and wore it around my wrist at every performance, bringing me luck.

But I also knew that even in my soul that I would never truly forgive him for this, my Erik. My Angel of Music.


	2. Chapter 2

TEN YEARS LATER

"Girls!" the Ballet Mistress, Madame Giry yelled sternly, tapping her long black cane on the hard wooded stage, effectively quietly the young ballet rats gossip, of the "Opera Ghost."

"Well done today, tomorrow we rehearse the final time before the show, with the singers and in costume. I expect you here at nine, no later. Go, it is late, and I want you _all_ in bed." Her gaze landed on me and I plastered a smile on my face, no light reaching my dull eyes, mostly from sleepiness nights.

Quickly I tried to sneak away with my two friends Christine Daae and Meg Giry while they tried to stand behind me, blocking me from Madams view.

"Clara, a word please." Her voice cuts through the sound of set manager's hammers and singers arias, even the lead soprano's aria which is about two octaves to high. The three of us flinch from her tone and I turn around guiltily, and I motion for Christine and Meg to go on without me.

"It is fine, past ten anyway, you should both go to bed." I said with a small, tried smile.

"Are you certain? We can wait up for you…"Meg asked thoughtfully, but seeing my gaze, she just tug's Christine along with her, who manages a tiny wave before they disappear of the stage.

"You wanted to see me Madame?" I asked standing before her, arms behind my back and feet tapping nervously on the floor.

_I know where this is going_...

"Now, Clara…" she started quietly, pulling me behind on of the velvety red curtains to give us an ounce of privacy. "You have responsibilities as the Prima Ballerina, and you need to get a good night's sleep for once instead of wondering the catacombs looking for _him,_ he is not here!" Madame's voice rose quickly and I flinched at the harshness in her tone, but I could also hear the sadness underneath, the betrayal o his disappearance all those years ago.

"Madame, forgive me. I know it is foolish, but I… I think of him all the time… and I never go into the tunnels, just to the bottom of the stairs and… and look across the lake…" my voice cracked and I feared I may cry, something I swore I would never do again for him, making me look like a child all the more.

"Clara, even after all this time?" her own voice was gruff, she missed him to, even if she would not admit it. He was like a son to her and she was the one who saved him for torment in the traveling freak show all those years ago, the gypsies who called him the Devil's Child.

She stroked my arm soothingly as I single tear streaked down my pale cheek.

"Always." That's when I walked away, shoulders hunched and ignored her pleads to come back, to talk this over, I could not bear to look at her, and for her to see my now flowing tears.

Running to the ballet dorms, I pulled open the thick wooded door and walked to the end of the long chamber, girls scattered about in night gowns and half dresses in their uniforms. The chatter makes my head pound as I fall on my cot, whip my tear stains of my face with my cottony sheets, and slide into my silken gown to prevent being flushed from the perpetually cracked windows which let in the sticky July air.

"Have you heard?"

"I hear he looks like death!"

"Sending notes to the manager like he owns the place… the nerve!"

"I heard he kills you if you dance poorly in a performance!"

All these voices of the ballet rats played in my head, was I that annoying when I was little? No, I decided firmly, siting cross legged on the bed, I was not.

"Meg, what are the girls talking about this time?" I groaned as I shoot over a look at Meg, her long golden locks loose and her blue eyes widening in fear at the question.

"Oh Clara! The Opera Ghost of course, the phantom that haunts the halls. Mother says that Monsieur Lefevre leaves him a salary of twenty thousand francs a month! Apparently, he writes letters and leaves them for him, always in red ink and matching seal." She brushed her hair out slowly and her gaze locks on my surprised one, even if she is looking in a mirror.

"What is it?" Christine asks as she walks over in her ruffled white robe and stands by my bed, which I was sitting on and staring at Meg in wonder and shock.

"_Red_ ink did you say Meg?" my voice was quiet and I watched her puzzled face. I only ever new one person who wrote in red ink.

"Yes, red. Is it not mysterious?" She gushed and blew out her candle. "Let me take your ribbon out Clara, it is dreadfully frayed." She said gabbing at my bun which was tied with my black silk ribbon, which has thinned greatly over the past ten years, the edges frayed and worn from use.

"No, its fine Meg, I like it. You know it was a gift." I answered stiffly as I ducked out of her reach, but I smiled in her direction, a reminder for she is a very forgetful girl.

"Leave it alone Meg, she obviously wants to keep it in and it is not like it is hurting anything. Goodnight Clara, goodnight Meg." Christine said with a yawn and went to her bed, which was the farthest away from mine, stuffed in a corner.

"Goodnight Meg," I said giving her a pointed stare; "Goodnight Christine, have fun with your Angel, " I giggled and looked at her shocked gaze, and then just smiled. She had an Angel, or so she said, who taught her to sing and she really was improving. She visits him every night in the chapel and they have lessons. But, she has never seen the man, just heard his otherworldly voice.

Leaning over on my nightstand, I blew out my candle and smiled to myself, while my thoughts drifted to candlewax and red ink. My last conscious though was simple, and very realistic.

_It is not possible..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note : Hey Guys, I haven't been getting much feed back from any of my lovely readers, so if you all could take a clock tick and write a review after you finish that would be PHANtasic! Thanks so much!**

Waking up to the sound of chattering girls, I opened my eyes to see a bright light shining on my face, streaming through the windows in yellow beams. Glancing at the clock I saw it was ten to nine! Spring up, I grabbed my slave girl costume, which had been sitting on my bureau, for Hannibal and slipped it on quickly, having Christine tie the back laces closed.

The simple red and green corset top with gold accents and a rope skirt of complementing colors along with a golden tiara, I run out to the stage, skipping breakfast with the black ribbon tied around my wrist, for good luck. Almost tripping over my Pointe ties, something I have been doing since I was a little girl, I made it to rehearsal before Madame, and so I was safe from a scolding and her cane.

La Carlotta, the squawky lead soprano began the first song, and we began to dance, all the Corus girls were trying to hear the music over that vile woman. Dancing my small solo, perks of being the Prima, I jumped and spun and landed in the splits at the end of the song, just to see Monsieur Lefevre walking up with two men in tow.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen. Rehearsals, as you see, are underway for a new production of Chalumea's Hannibal." He states as he leads the two men up on stage, interrupting our rehearsal. I glare at them as they pass by unnoticing.

"Monsieur Lefevre I am rehearsing!" the conductor Monsieur Reyer exclaimed exasperated from the orchestra pit, motioning for the musicians to stay sitting down, his frizzy grey hair flying up due to the humidity.

"Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry," the manager nodded to each respectively, Madame's eyes flashing with annoyance, "ladies and gentlemen, please, if I can have your attention, thank you." He said with a slight bow as we all quieted respectfully for our kind manager.

"As you all know, these last few weeks you have heard rumors of my imminent retirement," He stated carefully choosing his words as a murmured passed through the performers, especially the dancers. I glanced at Christine and Meg, who both looked at me as well, assuming where this was going. "And I can now tell you that these were all true and it is my pleasure to introduce you all to the new managers of the Opera Populaire." He said gesturing to the two men next to him with a thin lipped smile.

The three of us groaned, but where quickly out voiced by the others, especially La Carlotta who was stubbornly saying she knew it all along and gasps of surprise.

"Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre, I am sure you have heard of their recent success in the junk business…" he trailed of smiling at the men and I grinned at the subtle insult.

"Scrap metal actually." M. Andre said back sternly, eyes narrowing while I rolled mine with a smile, I would miss M. Lefevre and his sarcastic remarks.

"They must be rich…" I heard an older ballet girl say, giving Andre a seductive smile, and showing of her curves in the slave girl costume. I gagged along with Meg, disgusted, he is certainly twice her age!

"And, we are pleased to introduce the new Patron, the Vicomte de Chagny." Said M. Firmin with a proud wave of his hand as a handsome man in his twenties walked onto the stage, his hair light brown and slightly long for a man with big blue eyes. His richly tailored clothes gave away his high status, and I found him quite attractive, even with his feminine features.

"It's Raoul, from before my father died, at the house by the sea. I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts…" Christine blushed and eyes sparkled as she looked at him, mentioning the man as he walked over to shake hands with all the managers.

"Christine he is so handsome!" squealed Meg.

"I must agree Christine, but why have you never mentioned him before?" I asked shocked, my gaze lingering on him still.

"He never came up. He called me Little Lotte." She said with a shrug and turned towards him again as a hush went over the crowd.

"My parents and I are honored to support the arts, especially the world renowned Opera Populaire." He said with a shy smile, looking over us all, seeming to approve of what he sees and I saw Christine blush again, and making me smile at her sudden shyness.

Just then La Carlotta, in all her horror, coughed loudly, all of us looking at her in annoyance and she swept her red hair to the side and glared at M. Lefevre, glancing with her eyes. I chuckled under my breath as he scrambled to introduce the toad.

"Gentlemen, Signora Carlotta Guidicelli, leading soprano for five seasons now," He said handing her of quickly to the new men, each kissing her hand politely was scattered, halfhearted applauses echoed around the room.

"Kiss ups…"I murmured at Meg who giggled.

"And Ubaldo Paiangi." M. Lefevre finished gesturing to the robust Italian tenor, who was much kinder than Carlotta, but could not sing either.

"An honor Signor, but I do believe I am keeping you from rehearsal. I will be here this evening to share in your triumph." The Vicomte said kindly and gestured to M. Reyer to continue.

"He would not recognize me." Christine sighed as Raoul walked of stage with a pout.

"He did not see you," I justified with a smile, which she gave back sadly.

Suddenly Madame's cane thudded on the floor and we got into position and began our second ballet. While dancing I kept my eyes of the new managers while Madame lead them around the stage and gesturing to the dancers. They were close enough that I could hear what they were saying.

"We take particular pride in our ballets Monsieur's." said Madame proudly as I executed three perfect pirouettes in a row.

"Especially that little blonde angel…" said M. Firmin eyes only on Meg, do much simpler moves and ignoring me completely. _I see how it is, _I thought as I glared at them between jumps. She was the pretty one, even though I was blonde as well, well white blonde.

"My daughter, Meg Giry." Said Madame very possessively, shooting daggers at Firmin's and Andrea's leering gazes.

"And that exceptional beauty, no relation I trust?" they both questioned in unison, there gazes then landing on Christine next. What I am, invisible!? Gracefully landing into a plié, I smiled in their direction, to see them still gazing at Christine.

"Christine Daae sir, a very promising talent. Promising indeed."

"Daae you day? No relation to the famous violinist I trust?" Firmin asked awed. Always Christine to get the attention, or Meg with her figure.

"His only child, orphaned at seven. That's when she came to live and train in the ballet." Madame elaborated as the music continued on and we continued dancing.

"Orphan you say?" asked Andre curiously peering at her.

"I think of her as a daughter as well. Please stand to the side Monsieur's." Madame Giry said and pulled them both to the side as Carlotta began to "sing".

The men still watching, at the end I finished with my solo and we posed and the few spectators applauded loudly and cheered. I smiled wide, but it soon faltered as I saw La Carlotta start to throw a hissy fit.

"Great." I whispered to Meg and Christine who rolled their eyes with me at her outburst, she did this on a daily basis, several times a day.

"The young Vicomte is very excited about the production, and he is as impressed at dancing girls as your new managers!" she exclaimed and gabbed a finger at M. Lefevre who backed away slightly.

"Because I will not be singing! Good Bye! Get my doggie, bring my doggie. Bye Bye!" she snapped as two maids ran forward with her demon dog and she stalked of, yelling in Italian.

"Wow." Was all I could say as all the dancers brushed it off, sadly knowing she would be back before she stepped fully out the door.

"What do we do!"

"Grovel, grovel…" suggested Lefevre with a shrug as Andre and Firmin ran after her.

"Principessa, Bella Diva!" cried Firmin.

"Si si." Said Carlotta angrily, huffing at their words.

"Mr. Reyer, is there not a rather marvelous aria sung in Act Three of Hannibal?" asked Andre hopefully, directing the question at M. Reyer, his gaze pleading with the man.

"Yes, yes, yea ma no!" cried Carlotta, and that was all I could take.

Sitting down on the floor, I rested my head down to calm the pounding in the temples from her winy voice. Letting her voice fade into the background, I look up at the cat walk, and I thought I saw a figure which was certainly not the stage hand. He, for I was almost certain was a male, was dressed in all black and was sneaking, or looked like he was sneaking around up there.

Forgetting about the stranger I blocked out Carlotta singing and tried to relax, but suddenly I heard a lot of screams and I jumped to my feet, and saw Meg running over to her mother with a hysterical look. La Carlotta was trapped under a fallen backdrop, and I immediately thought of the man up on the cat walk. Christine was just as surprised but stayed where she was and looked up at the cat walk suspiciously.

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera!" Meg gasped in shock and ran around with fear plastered over her pretty face.

**P.S. Thank You Delanieroberts14 for being my first reviwer!**


	4. Chapter 4

"Buquet, for God's sake man, what is going on up there" called M. Reyer up at the catwalk, as I grabbed Meg and tried to calm her down.

"Your fine, there is not Phantom." I murmured into her, while Christine also smoothed down her hair. Poor Meg, always the one to overreact.

"Please Monsieur, don't look at me," the older bald man yelled down. I growled under my breath, he had a reputation with the ballet girls and not a good one . "As God's my witness I was not at my post." He said with honesty ringing in his voice.

"Of course you weren't Buquet, certainly drunk from all the rum you keep!" I yelled up angrily and he gazed down at me with fire in his beady black eyes.

"Please Mademoiselle, there is no one there, and if there was, well, they must be a ghost!" he yelled down again sarcastically and sneered at me with a cackled as he walked back into the shadows.

Total chaos bounced around the room and Meg went into hysteria again.

"The Phantom of the Opera! He's here…" she whimpered and I hugged her close, just a Madame Giry appeared with a letter in her hand and stood quietly off to the side of the stage, waiting for the hysteria to calm down.

"You're all obsessed!" cried Firmin, throwing his arms up in defeat. "Signora, these things do happen." He stated to Carlotta apologetically, kissing her hand simply.

"For the past three years these things do happen! And did you stop them from happening? No!" she shouted at Lefevre and he only stood there silently, not willing to become involved.

"And you two are as bad as him," she gestured as she stormed into the center stage near the stairs. "These things do happen… well until you stop these things from happening, this thing does not happen!" she yelled pointing at herself and ran off stage fallowed by her two maids, her dog and Ubaldo, who shot a weary glance back at the rest of us.

"That shall be all gentlemen," started M. Lefevre and pulled on his tall black hat. "If you need me, I shall be in Australia." And with that and a wave he ran out quickly, ignoring the calls from Andre and Firmin. At that I had to laugh; he did say he was retiring for his health.

"Signora Guidicelli, she will be coming back, wont she?" asked Andre hurriedly, walking up to Madame Giry who was finally seen standing of to the side of the stage by Meg, Christine and I. I could not suppress a smirk, I was not surprised he came to her, she was the one with authority over the performers. With a simple tap of her cane, we all quieted and she grinned.

"You think so Monsieur? Well, I have a message from the Opera Ghost. He wishes to welcome you to his Opera House," she stated with a smile and a glimmer in her dark eyes I have not seen in a long time, at least ten years.

"His Opera House?!" both the managers cried, but Madame carried on.

"And he commands you to continue to leave Box Five open for his use and reminds you his salary is due." She said sweetly, reading from the letter and I glanced over her shoulder to see red ink, just like Meg had said, and I saw a red skull seal on the envelope, and I felt the blood drain out of my face and my vision tunneled for a second, leaving my extremely lightheaded.

"His salary!" cried Andre in shock, but I was no longer listening, my ears were buzzing and my grip on Meg's arm tightened for I feared fainting.

"Clara, are you alright?" asked Meg, glancing at my hand around her arm, concern showing in her eyes, "You look pale."

"Yes Meg, just don't move too much, I just got a little light headed, that's all, and you know I am always pale…" I said with a grin, but Christine looked through it and saw my distress.

I was not even listening to the conversation anymore until Meg moved, like I told her not to, causing me to let go and stumble slightly, and her belle like voice call out to the managers, "Christine Daae could sing it sir!"

Snapping into focus I watched Madame Giry push Christine forward into center stage. Apparently she is auditioning, what else I missed in my dizzy, spinning brain.

"From the beginning of the aria Miss." Called Reyer and the music began, along with Christine, her voice perfect and pure as an angel. Even though she was quiet at first, nervous in front of everybody, she quickly gained confident and shined like the Prima Donna she was meant to be.

I knew she could sing, so I smiled with joy along with Meg as we basked in her glory and watched the faces of aw blossom through the stage at the people who thought her just another Corus Girl. Her Angel of Music had thought her well, but later tonight, I was going hunting for mine.

Deep in my mind I could only say one thing, it was being echoed by my heart so loud it resonated around my head, much like Christine's voice. _He's Back… __my__ Angel of Music. _Erik!

"Christine, Christine?" Meg called and we both walked down the stairs, still in costume, to the chapel where we knew she would be after such a big performance. Always here to light a candle for her father, say a prayer then go to sleep.

"Where in the world have you been hiding, really you were perfect!" I stated and smiled at her and she smiled back, still kneeling in front of her father's candle.

"We only wish we knew you secret, who is this new tutor?" Meg finished and we both kneeled beside her, Christine's face was slightly pale and eyes glassy as she seemed to stare into her own world.

"Meg, Clara…" she began softly, " When your mother brought me here to live, whenever I would come down here, a voice from above and from my dreams was always here. Before my father died, he said when he is in Haven, he would send an angel to me. An Angel of Music."

"Christine do you believe? Believe that the spirit of your father is teaching you?" Meg asked curiously, always the religious one, unlike me who never went to church.

"Of course Meg, whenever I sing I can sense him, and I know he's near." Stated Christine bluntly and led out of the chapel and up into the dorms again.

"Christine, you must have dreaming. Stories like this can't come true." I said, stopping her outside the ballet dorms and looking her straight in the eyes, her big brown doe eyes.

"Christine you're talking in riddles, and it is not like you!" Meg chimed in and Christine just sighed, defeated and looked down at her colorful costume dress.

"He's with me even now, all around me" she murmured dazed.

"Your face Christine is white…" I said touching her cheek in concern.

"It frightens me!" she gasped, holding onto my hand like it would save her from drowning.

"Don't be frightened… come let us get changed and get some sleep." Meg said, trying to cheer up the heavy atmosphere. I felt and odd prickly sensation, like I was being watched, but quickly brushed it aside to help Christine.

I opened the door to the ballet dorms, ushering them inside, but Christine resisted and pulled away.

"I sleep in the Prima Donna room now, I have to go there." She said humbly with a small grin on her face.

"Carlotta will kill you if she finds out!" cried Meg as Christine started on down the hall, to go to her new room.

"I won't tell…" I called jokingly after her and I heard a light laugh and Meg and I went in to our crowded dorms, to see all the littlest ballet girls circled around Buquet, who was banned from the dorms to begin.

Meg and I both walked over to the crowed and saw him talking about, what else, but the Opera Ghost.

"Like yellow parchment is his skin, a big black hole serves for the nose that never grew. You must be always on your guard, so he won't catch you with his magical lasso…" he laughed wildly and swung a noose around his head making the girls gasps and squeal, while Meg stood with me, both rolling our eyes and I was fuming.

Taking the rope he had been holding, I pulled it into my hands just as Madame stepped into the room, a snarl on her face, but I decided to take matters into my own hands this time.

"Those who speak of what they know, find too late that prudent silence is wise…" I growled through gritted teeth as I circled around him, holding the noose in my hands, my eyes narrowed and stormy, I had finally had enough.

"Josef Buquet hold your tongue!" demanded and raised my right hand and slapped him across the face, which contorted in pain from the hard blow as a red mark rose on his skin and the girls, from the youngest to oldest, gasped. "And keep your arm at the level of your eyes…" I hissed menacingly and threw the rope around his neck and he pulled his hand up, but to slow and the noose tightened painfully.

"Clara, allow me." Said Madame with an air as sharp as storm clouds and I looked at her with equal vigor. You could have heard a mouse in the room from the level of silence the girls were making.

She grabbed the rope, the noose still round his neck and pulled him out of the room with brute strength and all the girls gapped in shock, looking at the closed door she had slammed shut that lead to the hall.

And almost like a match was lit, the room exploded in sounds of surprise, fear and respect as many girls gathered around me, congratulating me on showing him his place.

"Clara, that was amazing!" Meg said as she undressed out of her costume quickly and climbed into bed in just her corset shift.

"Why did you do it?" she asked awed as I just chuckled quietly.

"I am sick of his stories, besides, why judge a book by its cover?" I asked her with a grin, but I hid the real reason behind my face. Nobody makes fun of my friend, and even if he is not here, I just saved the Opera Ghost another rumor.

I changed out of my outfit as well, and hung it in the costume closet next to Meg's, but I put on a simple red dress, deep burgundy in color with white lace on it. I have never worn it, because I have been saving it for a special occasion, but I need a distraction to tell Meg so she will not stop me from going to look for the Opera Ghost.

Grabbing the matching lace shawl, I pull my hair back in the ribbon, the black one like always, and start for the door to the hall, most the girls in bed already and asleep within five minutes. Sadly, Meg was not asleep and she grabbed my arm as I walked past.

"Clara, where are you going?" she whispered curiously, glancing down at my dress and shawl and I smirked slightly, proud my plan was working.

"Oh, I have a dinner date." I lied easily and pulled my arm out of her grip. "The man sends me flowers after every performance, but instead he asked if I could go to dinner with him." I said with a smile towards her and she returned it kindly. Lots of girls do leave after a big performance to go out with suitors or family, so the lie was perfect.

"Alright Clara, don't be out late, and tell me everything when you return." She squeaked and tunneled under the covers of her bed.

I chucked and slipped out the door and started down the long carpeted hallway, knowing when I reached the end I would find the secret passage I would need to start my journey under into the bowels of the Opera House. The moon and candles my only guild in the quiet corridor, I walked briskly and reached the end in no time, but had to stop and retie my boot as it came undone twice.

Looking closely at the picture that hung on the wall, admired the painter's creation of a beautiful field of flowers, someplace in the Paris countryside no doubt. A few trees are around the edges and wildflowers bloom in the long grass. It truly was beautiful, but the real beauty lie behind the gilded gold frame, a lever that opens and panel which leads to a stair case which the only direction is down.

About to move the painting to switch the leaver, I was interrupted y no other than the Vicomte de Changy, who was running headlong down the hall towards me.

"Mademoiselle!" he called and stopped before my, and bows shortly and stood a second to catch his breath. His eyes are glassy and cheeks flushed, hair in slight disarray.

"Vicomte…" I said questionably with a curtsy while knocking the picture back to hide the lever and looked him over with questioning eyes. " Can I help you?"

"You know Miss. Daae correct?" he asked shortly, but still in a gentlemanly fashion.

"Yes, we are close friends. I do believe she is at her lesson right now if you are looking for her." I said simply, implying I did not want to continue this conversation, while I tightened my shawl around my shoulders to block out the draft from the doors at the end of the hall.

"Oh, well that explains it than…" he said trailing of, eyes distant. "Thank you Mademoiselle." He said curtly, and kissed my hand quickly before jogging back down the hall which he came.

I raised my hand to ask what he needed, but thought better of it. What Christine sees in him besides his looks and money I may never know.

Turning back to the picture, I tipped the frame crooked to the side, and the wall slide open on the wall, and I stepped through the opening, knowing I would not need any light, and watched the panel slide closed and I was submerged in darkness.

**P.S. Thanks again to all the views and reviews! **


	5. Chapter 5

Carefully gathering my skirts in both my hands I stated down the steps in total blackness, accustomed to the twists and turns I found as I wound my way down to the underground lake.

When I was younger, this was the passage I would take to see Erik, and as I got older, I would still frequent the tunnel to go and sit by the lake and read by the light of a candle. Now, I need no light and I welcome the peaceful darkness.

Finally reaching the lake, I saw many lit torches flickering up and along the wet, slimy walls and they cast an eerie glow over the green water and illuminated the mist floating inches above the surface. Walking along the stone floor, I stepped closer to the edge and peered into the murky depths, gazing almost hypnotized into it.

No sound echoed around except for the gentle lapping of water against stone and taking another step closer to the edge, I tripped over the irritable lace of my boot and slipped on a puddle of water at the same time, sending me flailing towards the lake and a squeak escaped my lips as I stretched my arms out, as if to break my fall.

But before I could fall, an arm clad in black with long white fingers snagged around my waist and straightened me up again. Without even time to catch my breath, I was pressed against the cold wall with my feet of the ground and the stranger's hands around my throat, cutting of my thanks.

Struggling to breath, I clawed at the man's finger, but to no avail would he release his grip, which seemed to tighten the more I tried to get away.

"I told Giry that if one more ballet rat came down here it would not be pretty…" he growled menacingly, but I could only stare in shock at the mask that concealed half his face and the green eyes that glowed like a cats in the low light.

"Erik…?!" I was able to choke out with the last of my air supply, and to my surprise the man dropped his hold and I crumpled to the ground, gasping for air as I sat on my knees.

"What did you call me girl?" he spit angrily, straitening up tall and smoothing his hair back on his head, a nervous habit he has always had.

"Erik…" I croaked out with a grimace and I stood up, smoothed my skirt and cleared my throat with a sore cough. I looked him over, and slowly began to circle him and I saw him instantly stiffen and he shot me a glare, his teeth slightly bared in a scowl.

"How do you know my name girl?" he demanded venomously as he smoothed down his smooth his crow black hair again, which was actually a wig, his real hair is almost blondish. I held up a finger to silence him, a smile on my lips as I took in my old friend who was on the edge of pushing me in the lake… again.

His skin is pale, almost translucent, while he is so very tall, above six feet certainly, but he always has been that way. I am the one who has grown up now.

His features very masculine and he is very attractive, I mused to myself and stopped my inspection to stand in front on him, hands reaching up to untie the black ribbon in my hair.

"I asked you a question… did Giry… you aren't… you aren't her daughter are you?" I saw him grow even paler, for I knew bruises were blossoming on my neck and most likely my waist without having to even look, and Madame would hunt him down if he did this to Meg, or me, or Christine for that matter.

"No Erik, I am not Meg Giry. Do you really not remember me?" I asked somewhat hurt but also with a tone echoed with disbelief and playfulness, and grasped his hand, which he tried to pull out of my grasp, and I tugged it back and placed the poor, pathetic piece of black silk in his hand with a small smile.

I loved watching his eyes widen in shock as he let the fabric side through his long fingers, mouth slightly gaping as his gaze darted from me to the piece of silk. The green orbs finally setting on me, I saw tear slide down his pale face, and I felt one slide down my face as well, like twins.

Damn him, making me cry again, and crying himself which is the rarest sight in the world.

"Clara…" he whispered as I nodded and I threw myself into his arms and sobbed, for my Angel had returned, just like I always dreamed he would.

I know I promised that no more tears would be shed for this man, once boy, who stood before me, but some promises are meant to be broken and this is one of them. I feel him stroke my long white blonde hair, tying it back up with the scrap of silk , and I could feel his tears falling on my crown. With a sniffle I pulled away, and I giggled as I looked him up and down again, seeing his eyes were slightly red and puffy, our smiles identical.

"My Erik, look how you have grown. I mean, you haven't changed much… but I have I guess…" I babbled with a teasing undertone and he chuckled. "And don't think this ends here young man…" I threatened teasingly, but I knew he could hear the threating undertone in my voice.

"You as well Mademoiselle Clara Sirois," he said and kissed my hand softly, his gaze never leaving mine, and I felt myself smile at the gesture, a little thing we had done when we were children, well when I was a child, he was seventeen after all. His skinny finger trailing along the yellowing spots along my neck.

With a laugh I hugged him again, but I felt a new emotion bubble to the surface, and I narrowed my eyes at him and I saw him sigh, already predicting what was soon transpire.

In our younger years he swears that I was secretly a red head for my fiery temperament.

"Clara, keep you voice down before you start yelling. Please…" he began and I could hear the underlying desperation in it, but did not get to finish for I pulled back my hand and struck him on the side of the face that had no mask, wanting to aggravate him, wanting him to yell at me for what he did so I could vent out to him.

"You little…" I growled, mind searching for a word harsh enough to describe him.

"Clara… I don't want to hurt you…" again he began calmly, my palm imprinted on his cheek, angry and red.

"Shut up…" I hissed, trying to stay quiet like he asked, but my mind was screaming at him thousands of curses. "You… just… left…" I said defeated with a sigh and a single tear ran down my face and stopped at my chin. So much for no more tears.

He silently took my hand and led me to a boat, which was more like a gondola really, that was docked around a pillar, so I could not see it when I first came down. It was crafted out of flawless ebony wood and a lantern hung from the hull, glowing like an orb in the dim light. I stepped in, he after me and pushed off with a tall rod and we glided across the misty lake and in about two minutes docked again this time outside his little home.

Gathering up my skirts, now slightly dirt and dust stained and wrinkled, I sat down on a chair ad he went over to his gigantic music composing stand and started shuffling through papers. Hundreds of candles were scattered around the "room", for I know no other words to call it, and I saw lots of papers strewn about with red ink. I gazed around me unimpressed by his space; Erik has always been dark and mysterious after all. And not to mention this is where I used to play as a child.

The silence was deafening, so I stood and inspected some objects around the area, his gargantuan pipe organ dominated an entire wall and I saw a little diorama in a corner, of the Opera House's stage, a girl in white, sculpted in clay, in the center, the details perfect. Frowning, I turned to see him still shuffling through his things, when I heard a voice echo through the space, for a woman was singing softly close by.

"Erik!" I hissed and he turned around to see me, almost seemed he forgot I was there with him and motioned for me to hide, and went back to his work.

With a roll of my eyes, I crouched in the corner behind the organ, but could still see everything that could, and I assumed would transpire. Relaxing I listened to the voice, and found it extremely familiar, but could not match a face with the angelic voice.

_I remember there was mist,_

_Swirling mist upon a vast glossy lake._

_There were candles all around and on the lake there was a boat._

_And in that boat, there was a man…_

**P.S. YEAH! Yes, they finally reunite... and now who can that mysterious singer be... Please comment and review if you like it, or don't like it I suppose... tell me anything, I love feed back! And if you cant think of anything... a smiley face will even do! **


	6. Chapter 6

Out from around a stone column, came Christine in a very lacy nightgown that reveled more than was decent and I felt my jaw hit the floor. Christine's Angel and my Angel is the same person? Erik and I were going to have a long discussion about this after she left, she's _sixteen _for God's sake!

She walked over to his right side and I watched him physically relax when she got closer, still not looking at her. He almost seemed to sense her presence, without even looking up to find her. She gently caressed his mask, and I felt my eyes pop out as he leaned into her touch, like she was all he needed to live.

Excuse me, that position was filled quite a while ago, thank you very much!

_Who was that shape in the shadows?_

_Whose is the face in the mask…?_

Suddenly, to my horror, Christine's fingers tightened around the edge of Erik's mask, and all of us gasped in shock as she yanked it of his face, reveling what he has tried to keep hidden all his life.

Erik's cry of anguish was something I had never heard before, a mixture of anger and betrayal, and I could not stand to watch any longer.

"Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little demon is this what you wanted to see!" Erik bellowed in horror and threw Christine to the floor and she cried out in disgust at his face and surprise at his frantic outburst, cowering before him on the wet ground.

I scampered over quickly and stood behind Erik and pulled him back away from my friend to prevent him from beating Christine to death. I know how bad his temper can get when angered, I had the bruises to prove it on my neck right now, we both got in so many fights as children.

"Curse you! You little lying Delilah, you little viper! Now you shall not ever be free!" he hissed and pulled out of my grasp easily, a hand covering the marred side of his face, standing over her and casting a dark shadow.

Christine locked eyes with me, pleading for answers and help, but my face was solid as stone. She does not deserve my help, even if I wish to give it. She only did this to herself after all.

"Damn you… curse you!" I hissed at her in frustration and anger, for her foolish decision. Does she even know Erik at all? At this point, I am assuming she does not, not at all.

"Stranger than you dreamt it, can you even bear to look or care to think of him…" I mocked, I do not care if she is my friend, if both of them are, and this crosses a line.

"This loathsome gargoyle that burns in hell, but secretly yearns for heaven, secretly. Christine…" he scolded at the girl, who still cowered on the slimy ground and his voice broke as he cried.

I felt my own heart twist ever so slightly and glanced around for the mask, the mask will fix everything.

While I searched I heard Erik continue on his rant, I crawled along the floor, searching for the scrap of plaster.

"Fear can turn to love – you'll learn to see the man behind the monster: this repulsive carcass who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty…"

Where is the mask!?

"Secretly… oh _Christine_…"

I turn around in time to see my poor Erik collapse in front of Christine, both hands clenched to the deformed side of his face, silent tears streaking down his gaunt pale cheeks.

Slowly she reaches behind her and holds out the mask to him, the nerve of her with her big brown doe eyes and chestnut curls. I straighten up and walk over to her as Erik swipes it away from her and replaces it, fixing his hair, and I pull her to her feet.

I can feel her shaking, and I look her in the eyes.

"Come we must return. Those two fools who run his theater will be missing you." I carefully, like walking up to a startled filly, grasped her hand, shot Erik a look. One of those sibling looks that says WE ARE DEFINATLY TALKING ABOUT THIS LATER look, and lead her back to the surface.

**P.S. I am very very sorry this chapter is so short! I will most defiantly make it up to you the next update, I assure you there will be much more. But on the bright side... what do you think of the conflict in this one? please review and favorite and fallow :)**


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